


let me under your sweater

by neilwrites



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Moriyamas - Freeform, Sharing Clothes, Trans Male Character, Trans Neil Josten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neilwrites/pseuds/neilwrites
Summary: The first time is an accident. Really, it is.Neil hasn’t ever paid attention to his clothes either when he bought them himself —usually explicitly chosen to blend in— or when Andrew started buying some for him.So it makes sense that when it was Neil’s turn to grab the laundry from the basement and carry it up, and he started dividing it into three piles, for himself, Kevin, and Andrew, that he made a mistake.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 18
Kudos: 412





	let me under your sweater

**Author's Note:**

> fair warning it's canon divergence which means i sort of picked and chose what worked for me in this universe, so just, like, go with it pls  
> \- andrew, kevin and neil live in the dorm together just because i said so  
> \- no moriyamas in this universe because i was too lazy to think of more plot  
> \- i don't explain anything, enjoy

The first time is an accident. Really, it is.

Neil hasn’t ever paid attention to his clothes either when he bought them himself —usually explicitly chosen to blend in— or when Andrew started buying some for him. 

So it makes sense that when it was Neil’s turn to grab the laundry from the basement and carry it up, and he started dividing it into three piles, for himself, Kevin, and Andrew, that he made a mistake.

He folds the clothes messily, but he knows Andrew and Kevin don’t really care about that, and he shoves them in their shared wardrobe, each with their own drawer.

It’s getting cold outside, and as such, in their dorm room too, so he grabs a cozy-looking sweater and pulls it on before dragging himself over to the kitchen table where his math homework is waiting for him.

He pulls the sleeve over his knuckles on the hand that isn’t busy writing, feels the soft fabric between his fingers, and rests his elbow on the table, leaning his head against his hand.

When Andrew walks in, returning from his class, he stands and stares at Neil for long enough that he notices and looks up from his homework.

He blinks. Says, “Uh. Hi?”

Andrew nods. Seems to ready himself to talk, but then stills and walks into their bedroom and closes the door behind him without a word.

When his homework is done, Neil stands up and stretches as Kevin walks in.

“Hi,” he says, hoping for a little more than what Andrew gave.

“Hey,” Kevin says, following it up with, “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Huh?”

Neil looks down at his outfit. It’s generic grey sweats that Andrew insists Neil should throw out and Neil insists that Andrew should fuck off; along with the comfy sweater over his sports bra.

Is that what Kevin’s talking about? Did he see the straps or something? No, it could be from a tank top too, Kevin wears those.

“Uh,” Neil says. “Clothes?”

Kevin tilts his head. “Did you go shopping? I swear I’ve never seen you in that.”

Neil snorts. “Sure. I went shopping. Me. I did.”

Kevin pulls a face and grabs a glass of water, then downs it in one.

He stares at Neil’s chest some more, enough to make Neil uncomfortable, but that’s when Andrew walks out of their bedroom and pushes Kevin out of the way to grab some ice cream, digging straight in with a spoon.

Kevin looks like he’s thinking. That never makes Neil feel confident.

“Andrew,” he starts, still looking at Neil. “Did you buy him that?”

Andrew doesn’t even turn around before shrugging.

“What?” Kevin exclaims. “Either you did or you didn’t. We all know he didn’t get it himself.”

Neil’s slowly getting annoyed and would prefer everybody stop looking at his chest. Well. Kevin should stop. Andrew isn’t even looking at him. He should stop that too.

“Can you drop it, Kevin?” Neil says testily. “If you wanna draw me up a schedule telling me what to wear, be my guest. Just promise to stand still when I shove it up your ass.”

Andrew snorts and chokes on his ice cream, so Neil considers that a win and grins. 

“Whatever,” Kevin says. “We leave for training in half an hour.”

Neil waves his hand to show he heard him and goes to change. He folds the sweater back up to put it away in his drawer, and it’s by doing that that he notices the small stitched writing at the back of the neck of the sweater. In small, elegant print, it says ‘ _ fuck off _ ’.

Not his sweater then.

Ah.

Neil looks towards the door connecting the bedroom to the living room, where he can hear Andrew and Kevin arguing.

Well. No sense in giving it back now.

* * *

“Staring,” Andrew tells him from across the table at Eden’s. Neil has to lean over the table, and Andrew has to repeat himself before Neil finally gets it.

“You are too,” he says, even though he’s not really sure, and it could piss Andrew off.

Andrew doesn’t deny it, but he bites on the inside of his cheek, which easily stops Neil from pointing that out. He continues staring.

“I’m getting drinks,” Andrew says, but he doesn’t move.

“Uh,” Neil says. “Okay?”

Andrew sighs, which is weirdly audible in the busy club, or maybe it’s because Neil is still refusing to look away, and he follows up with, “I’m not carrying all of them.”

Oh.

He drops the coaster he was in the process of shredding and follows Andrew to the bar.

Roland nods at Neil, smirks at Andrew, and Andrew says, “Shut up,” then tells him their order.

Roland making drinks is pretty boring, so Neil’s eyes travel back to their favorite resting place lately. Andrew’s jaw is incredibly sharp. Yes, Neil has had to stop himself from reaching out and touching. It was embarrassing. 

“Any progress?” Roland asks, which Neil thinks is weird since neither he nor Andrew was talking to him about any sort of project. Or talking to him at all.

Roland has a raised eyebrow and an amused grin on his face, directed at Andrew. The realization that Andrew and Roland talk, specifically when Neil isn’t there, is both obvious and hurtful. Which it shouldn’t be. There is no reason why that should hurt Neil. When they disappear into a backroom, they probably share words besides spit and, well, other things.

“Uh,” Neil clears his throat. “Should I leave?”

Andrew turns to him immediately. “What? Why?”

Neil nods at Roland awkwardly, who is doing a shit job of pretending he isn’t listening.

“No,” Andrew says. Then tells Roland the same.

Roland smirks, hands over their drinks on a platter, and tells them, “Good luck.”

Neil has no idea what he’s talking about, but then Andrew’s hand is on his lower back, pushing him forwards, holding the platter with his other hand.

Aaron and Kevin both drop in to grab drinks, and Aaron says, “Oh. You’re still here?”

Neil briefly thinks it’s a dig at Neil, but he turns to find it was directed at Andrew, who asks, “Where should I be?”

Aaron looks at the bar in the least subtle way possible.

Kevin is still browsing the drinks options, then says, “No tequila?”

Andrew sighs through his nostrils, and Neil shouldn’t be paying so much attention to him, honestly. He’s not being very subtle either.

“Get it yourself, he tells Kevin, and adds a cheery, “Fuck off,” for Aaron.

Neil swallows around his gulp of soda. “You’re not seeing Roland anymore?”

“How astute.”

“How astute,” Neil repeats mockingly. “Why not?”

Andrew shrugs and stares at what feels like directly into Neil’s soul.

Oh.

Oh?

“Wait,” Neil says, trying to process this before he comes to a conclusion that doesn’t exist and would make him look entirely stupid. “You like me,” Neil says. Asks? No, says.

“I hate you,” Andrew says calmly. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you.”

Neil chokes on his soda.

“Uh.”

Andrew shrugs and takes another drink.

They stop talking after that, and soon after they make their way back to the house, where Neil is annoyed to find out he didn’t pack any PJs. They were in such a hurry to leave earlier, Neil only had time to grab his bag from last time and hope he still had enough supplies of everything, but apparently, for once, he was a sensible adult who took out the dirty laundry.

He can’t really sleep in what he’s wearing now, because the shirt over his binder is not loose enough for Neil’s comfort levels with everyone around, and he really needs to take his binder off soon.

Kevin’s already conked out on the sofa, and Nicky is drunkenly calling Erik, Neil thinks, so he goes up the stairs to Andrew’s room.

The door is open, but he can hear the shower running in the bathroom, so Neil hastily slips in to peruse Andrew’s wardrobe.

There’s a lot of black, naturally, and Neil ignores the locked bottom drawer before discovering the motherload: the hoodie shelf.

He’s in the process of stealing a big oversized hoodie along with some sweats when there’s a sound coming from the doorway.

It’s Andrew, hair still wet from the shower, shirt sticking to his chest in a frankly illegal way, and his eyebrow raised as he stares at his clothes in Neil’s hands.

“Can I help you?” he asks, flexing his muscles as he crosses his arms, and Neil needs to leave right now.

“No, I’m fine,” he says. “I’ll just uh…” He nods his head towards the stairs. “I’ll head out.”

Andrew stares at him as he leaves, but he doesn’t stop him.

Neil wakes up the next morning from a flick on his nose.

Andrew follows it up with, “We’re leaving in ten.”

Neil blinks his eyes fully open and checks the clock. He slept for ten hours. He keeps the hoodie on for the ride home.

* * *

It had been easy not to think about the Foxes while his father had him. The minute Neil saw Lola after the game, his mind blocked them out as a safety measure. It’s no use thinking of the good times you had when you’re about to get tortured, brought before your murderous father who spent the last thirteen years trying to find his missing daughter only to find a young man, and killed.

Well. Almost killed. It got very close in the end.

But now he’s here. In an FBI holding room that they refuse to call a cell, even though Neil is not allowed to leave, or call anyone, or know anything.

The walls are blank, there isn’t even a window, and the door is locked. To Neil, that’s a cell. And all he can do is think.

Think about his friends whose trust he betrayed. Think about Kevin, and what he might be thinking about Neil, and who he used to be. Think about Andrew. About what could have been.

Sure, Andrew had pretty much admitted to being —at least sexually— attracted to Neil, but since Neil lacks the anatomy Andrew is clearly into, well, Neil never brought it up again. 

Andrew respected this and never made a move on Neil again, but Neil likes to think they became friendly after all.

There were a lot of nights spent smoking on the roof, staring at the stars and at Andrew’s profile, convincing himself that he should do it, or no, he shouldn’t, and then looking away again.

It’s useless to think about all of that now. He wonders what the FBI will want to do with him, if he’ll have to change his name again, which state he’ll be sent to. If they’ll allow him to change the gender on his paperwork to finally match him. If he has to start his life all over again,  _ again _ .

He’ll miss everyone.

There’s a knock on the door, which is pretty pointless, considering it was locked and it’s not really up to Neil whether someone enters or not, but it’s soon followed by one of the agents from yesterday swiftly being shoved aside by Andrew.

_ Andrew _ .

“Andrew,” Neil chokes out.

“Jesus, Minyard, I told you to behave,” Wymack says, showing up behind Andrew who’s standing still, staring at Neil.

“You have five minutes,” agent Brown, or whatever his name was, says.

“Fifteen,” Andrew says, not looking away from Neil.

“Ten,” Brown hisses.

“Alone,” Andrew demands.

Brown rolls his eyes. “Yes, I remember, you little asshole.”

Wymack gives Neil a quick once over and winces, then closes the door to leave himself and Brown outside.

Neil’s shaking on his legs and when Andrew takes a step closer, he sinks through them.

Andrew joins him on the floor and. Just looks at him.

Takes in every single scrape and bruise, bandage, and tape.

Does not stop and remarks on the t-shirt the FBI gave him that’s not loose enough to hide what he wants hidden.

Grabs hold of Neil’s hands, all wrapped up and sensitive.

When Neil pulls a face in pain, Andrew loosens his hold but Neil grabs on tight, no matter how it hurts.

“Andrew,” Neil says, voice still a little raw from screaming.

“Your father? he asks, keeping his eyes on Neil’s.

Neil nods, but then realizes that’s not what Andrew was asking. “Dead,” he says. 

“The others?”

“Them too, I think. And if they aren’t yet, they will be soon.”

Andrew nods approvingly. After another moment of silence, Andrew pulls off his oversized hoodie and hands it over.

“Oh,” Neil says with a grateful sigh. “I can’t, uh…,” he gestures with his bandaged up hands.

Andrew doesn’t comment on anything as he helps Neil pull the hoodie on, tugging it firmly over his upper body so Neil can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he says. 

“What did you mean,” Andrew asks, voice gruff, and it’s then that Neil notices the darkness around Andrew’s eyes like he hasn’t slept, “when you said I was amazing?”

“I—,” Neil hesitates. “Just that. You played an amazing game. And it’s been amazing knowing you.”

“Because you knew it would be the last time you saw us.”

Neil nods.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Neil scoffs. “You’re the expert on protecting people, Andrew. You figure it out.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“Well, I gave it anyway. Not your choice.”

Andrew’s thumbs are rubbing gently over the parts of Neil’s fingers that he can reach.

“Is all this why you said no?”

“I never said no,” Neil says stubbornly.

Andrew stares him down. “Don’t try and get smart with me. I know you.”

Neil forgets how to breathe for a second. He does know him.

This is not why I said no,” Neil admits. 

“So why did you?”

Their knees are touching, Andrew’s touch is relaxing, and it’s time to finally come clean about this last thing. Clean slate before his new life begins.

“I don’t have what you want.”

Andrew looks confused, and it’s such a strange look on his otherwise neutral face. “What I want how?”

“Sexually. Physically,” Neil says, getting tense and feeling stupid with how this conversation is going.

Andrew catches on pretty quickly, luckily. “Did I say that?”

“Pretty much.”

Andrew stares at him, probably trying to recall the conversation.

“I said I would blow you.”

Neil nods.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Neil, I also said I didn’t like you.”

Neil starts to move away.

Andrew keeps him close. “It means you shouldn’t really take my exact words for everything all the time. Specifically when I’m being an idiot too.”

Neil’s head hurts, and his hands hurt, and everything aches except for his fingertips.

Andrew brings his hand up to cup Neil’s jaw gently, careful not to upset the bandage.

“You have what I want,” he says.

Neil shudders. “Even like this?”

“Exactly like this,” Andrew says. “So, is it still a no?”

Neil shakes his head. 

“Kiss me,” Neil asks, and Andrew does.

Ten minutes later, agent Brown opens the door and finds them in that same position, with Andrew’s hands in the pocket of Neil’s borrowed hoodie, pulling him closer and nipping at Neil’s lips.

It’s Wymack that clears his throat and alerts them to their presence.

“Fucking finally,” he says. “Now get up. We have some paperwork to fill out. You’re coming home with us, Josten.”

**Author's Note:**

> shout at me on [twitter!](http://twitter.com/neilmoony)  
> 


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